


Kiss with a Fist

by FugalGear



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: I know, It's corny, Jim and Seb being nasty to each other, M/M, Sexual Content, Violence, Yes I used a song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:46:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FugalGear/pseuds/FugalGear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Broke your jaw once before<br/>Spilt your blood upon the floor<br/>You broke my leg in return<br/>So let's sit back and watch the bed burn<br/>Well love sticks sweat drips<br/>Break the lock if it don't fit<br/>A kick in the teeth is good for some<br/>A kiss with a fist is better than none</p><p>Sebastian's attempt to get Jim to take a breather from his precious work escalates into a flat-wide battle for dominance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was the news channel that woke him—or rather the snazzy, musical segue into a piece of breaking news. Sebastian blinked, eyesight bleary. A house fire hardly qualified as breaking news. The man looked to the window, where the evening sun cast red and orange rays through the large panes that took up the entirety of the westward facing wall. A further scan gave no signs of Jim. Sebastian sighed and pushed himself from the sofa, extending his long arms above his head in a stretch. The sofa once again proved to be an unforgiving place for a cat nap—Sebastian’s bones cracked and his sore muscles protested.

Closing his eyes with a huff, Sebastian marched down the hallway to Jim’s office, bypassing the kitchen despite the hunger growling in his stomach. That bastard was likely still at his desk, pecking away at keyboards with his face glued to at least one of several screens. Turning the handle and sliding into the office, Sebastian’s thoughts were confirmed. He sighed again, maneuvering around the large mahogany desk and sliding up behind the criminal. Jim hadn’t even glanced at him, and had yet to acknowledge the man’s presence. 

“I knew you’d be in here, still. Give it a break, Jim. You haven’t slept since yesterday,” mumbled Sebastian, leaning on the back of the chair and draping his arms over Jim’s shoulders. 

“Busy. Don’t lean on my chair,” replied Jim in a monotone voice, eyes darting across the screen. He leaned his head away when Sebastian attempted to kiss his temple. Taken aback, Sebastian frowned, before leaning in closer, rubbing his palms alongside the front of Jim’s torso. 

“Don’t be like that, babe. Come to bed.”

The shorter man growled, fingers curling in the air as he ceased typing in order to personally extricate Sebastian’s hands from his body. “I told you. This is important,” he reiterated. “If you’re horny, too bad, Moran. Maybe later. Not now.”

Jim had returned to the computers. Sebastian, feeling scorned, redoubled his efforts and started to massage the consultant’s tense shoulders. Jim shook out of his grip.

“I don’t have time for you. Leave me be.”

Sebastian’s frustration prickled his skin. He had several tactics that were effective in pulling Jim away from his obsessive tendency to work, and often enough this one in particular was successful, if only for a short while. Jim at least took a nap afterward, and Sebastian knew that even the quick kip was a welcome reprieve for Jim’s body. 

“I said, come to bed,” gritted Sebastian through his teeth, spinning around the black swivel chair and pulling Jim up harshly by his upper arm. He was sick of Jim neglecting everything that wasn't work, like his own body. Or Sebastian, for that matter. He had been kind to volunteer what he had to offer, to give this idiot of a man an excuse to take a well-needed break. 

Jim struggled in his grip, attempting to sit back down. “Fucking hell, Moran! Let go!”

Sebastian pulled him away from the workspace, intent on locking Jim out of the room. The office was where Jim got his fix, after all. Jim kicked and cried out, and Sebastian was reminded of a child throwing a tantrum, having been told that they could no longer play with their toys. The thought amused him, and Sebastian loosened his grip enough for Jim to swivel around and pull his fist back. The man’s knuckles connected soundly with Sebastian’s jaw, however the sudden burst of pain did not cause him to falter. Swearing roundly, he grabbed Jim’s retreating wrist, backing the criminal against his desk before returning the favor. His punch landed squarely on Jim’s cheek. 

“How about you listen to me, you little fucker,” spat Sebastian, trying hard not to let Jim weasel out of his grip. He had become mildly aroused during the miniature brawl, and pressed his hips firmly against the smaller man. “If I want you to come to bed with me, you fucking do it.”

With a hardened expression, the sniper searched Jim’s eyes. There would be permission in those eyes, and permission, of course, was the difference between life and death. Jim peered at him with his lips pursed, eyes twinkling brightly, before pitching his head forward, knocking his forehead against Sebastian's. He took the opportunity to dart away as Sebastian stepped back, this time taken by surprised. The man roared in fury, bolting through the door after Jim. He had his permission alright.


	2. Suck

The consulting criminal sprinted halfway down the narrow hall before Sebastian caught up with him. The ex-military man twisted both hands into the back of Jim’s shirt, using his split-second hold as leverage to swing Jim around and press him face-forward against the wall. Jim stayed still, cheek-to-plaster, as Sebastian held him down with a hand on his waist and shoulder. In the unlit hall, the rays of the evening sun barely crept around the corner. Jim’s sudden motionlessness was suspicious, however Sebastian knew not to be tricked. Anyone else would mistake it for submission, but this isn’t the first time they’ve played this game. He wouldn’t fall for it. The tendrils of Sebastian’s breath cascaded into Jim’s ear as he spoke. 

“You need to learn how to pace yourself with work, babe. I was just trying to help you,” Sebastian growled, pressing the man harder against the wall. Jim did not respond, and Sebastian wracked his brain in order to formulate the next move. This was chess, and Jim was King, but then again, so was he. After a few long moments of contemplating, Sebastian felt Jim shift, pressing his buttocks back against him, ever so slightly. The touch was subtle, barely registering in his brain. When it did, Sebastian had to stop himself from grinning. 

“Is that what you want? Do you want this?” he swung his hips against Jim once, in crude mimicry. “Because you weren’t so eager a few minutes ago. No, you were even so kind as to punch me in the face, so maybe, yes, maybe this is what you want?” Sebastian punctuated his words by seizing Jim’s short hair between his curled fingers and slamming the shorter man’s head against the wall. It sounded with a crack, followed by an indulgently vulgar moan from Jim. Sebastian relinquished his hold, stepping back with a snarl.

“Sick fucker.”

Jim turned to face Sebastian, reaching his hand down to massage the man’s arousal through his jeans. Sebastian had half a mind to intercept the touch, however the moment he felt Jim’s hand on him, Sebastian relaxed despite himself. A second later, Jim squeezed suddenly, his fist an iron grip. Yelping in pain, Sebastian leapt back and swung at Jim, who sprightly dodged it, flashing his pearly whites at the man before ducking around the corner that led to the sitting room. 

Sparing only a few seconds to shake off the pain, Sebastian paced quickly after the man, eyes slightly crossed in his anger. He rounded the corner swiftly, halting only after realizing that Jim was no longer in front of him. From his peripheral vision, Sebastian detected movement to his immediate right, however his reflexes were not fast enough to block Jim’s preemptive attack. The blue crystal vase previously perched on the mantelpiece crashed against his head, shattering in large fragments which fell around his shoulders. 

The blow sent him reeling. Sebastian stumbled forward, placing a steadying hand against the mantelpiece. Regaining his bearings, the man scanned the room for Jim. The criminal stood on the other side of the room, near the large windows, hand unabashedly down his pants. 

“You’re bleeding, love,” Jim giggled. “You should really be more careful.” 

Sebastian panted hard. He felt disoriented, however his body had endured far worse. Removing his hand from his trousers, Jim stretched with a yawn—obviously for show, though Sebastian, as he could see the man’s chest heaving up and down. 

“Worn out already? Oh, Honey,” cooed Jim, sympathetic expression painted across his face. He stepped forward briskly, and Sebastian straightened, his posture as close an approximation to military attention as he could manage with the headache spreading underneath his skull. Jim circled him, hands clasped behind his back. Sebastian stared resolutely at the sunset. 

“You look so pretty in the dying light, Tiger. “ Jim fixed his eyes on Sebastian’s forehead, and Sebastian knew that he was watching the blood he felt rolling down his face. The sniper knew that he had sustained at least one major cut. “It’s disappointing that you need a break so soon, however if that is the case, I suppose I’ll go put the kettle on.”

Jim turned toward the kitchen, and Sebastian grabbed him by the arm once more. There were dozens of objects that could be used as weapons in the kitchen, not to mention actual weapons. He certainly was not going to allow Jim the opportunity to arm himself. 

Actually, Sebastian really should have thought about that sooner. Regret panged in his chest as Jim turned in on him, pivoting on the arm Sebastian had grabbed, slashing at his arm with a small switch blade. Cringing with pain as the blade sliced through the skin on his upper arm, Sebastian released Jim, freeing his hand and cradling the wound. The crafty bastard must have slipped it into his breast pocket while they were still in the office. He bit his lip to refrain from crying out. 

Jim’s eyes gleamed manically, and he brought the concealed weapon horizontally against Sebastian’s gullet. The taller man made eye contact, prepared to stand his ground. Weakness of will was never an option. He wasn’t going to forfeit--- he may as well be dead. In fact, if he ever did surrender, death would likely be the penalty. 

Knife still flush against Sebastian’s throat, Jim lunged up to steal an invading kiss, undoing his fly all the while. Jim stepped back, pushing the garments around his waist down so that they pooled around his ankles, gingerly stepping out of them. He drew the knife across Sebastian’s stoically straight closed lips, nicking into the bottom one with a flick of his wrist, using the flat side to spread the fluid lengthwise along the lip. Jim glanced down at himself, raising his eyebrows expectantly at Sebastian, and the message was clear. The sniper jerked his head upward defiantly before dropping to his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has any suggestions for how this story should go, feel free! I'm definitely trying something new with this one.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading, and please tell me what you think! C:


End file.
